


You & Me (Don't Tell Your Mother)

by Inky



Series: You & Me Collection [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff and Humor, Krolia needs Shiro to stop mackin on her son in the middle of an intergalactic war, M/M, Mom Mode Level: Extreme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 18:35:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15712773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inky/pseuds/Inky
Summary: “Hey,” says Keith.“Hey,” says Krolia.“I... am... Shiro,” Shiro says with his last two firing brain cells.





	You & Me (Don't Tell Your Mother)

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a post on twitter, courtesy of [@orcacove](https://twitter.com/orcacove), about how Krolia definitely banished Shiro to spend his nights in Green because him and Keith are dating... I just had to indulge in MomMode!Krolia. 
> 
> \--[elle](https://twitter.com/inkweaving)

“Keith... I was dreaming. Keith. You saved me.”

A warm hand cups under his head and Shiro lets out a soft sound of relief as Keith pulls him up into a tight embrace.

“We saved each other.”

With a sigh, Shiro closes his eyes and inclines his head ever so slightly. All this time—all this time, he’s spent countless hours, days, weeks, _months_ watching Keith from the sidelines. Watching him thrive, grow into his role as the Black Paladin. It was an incredible experience, and such a thing could only culminate into one thing.

He starts to pull his head away, lips parting as he turns to finally, finally give in to the powerful emotion that’s been throbbing in his ribcage for however long.

That is until he happens to glance upwards.

Krolia stares at him, and although there’s a smile on her face, her eyes are wide and ferocious. Shiro promptly sucks his traitorous lips into his mouth so hard he nearly swallows them.

“Hey, sweet, Shiro’s awake!”

And that’s that. Keith pulls away and they listen to Lance give a mildly concerning account of what had transpired. Keith’s hand is hot and affectionate, cupped on his inner thigh. Shiro’s eyes snap to Krolia. She’s staring.

“It’s—good to be back,” Shiro manages, disguising the break in his voice with a laugh.

-*-

Shiro perches on the armrest of the pilot’s chair, watching Keith guide them lazily through open space. A little smile rises to his lips as Keith lets loose a yawn big enough to swallow a Balmera. Two weeks into their long journey home and Shiro can already see signs of Keith’s exhaustion; his limp hands on the controls, the wilted slope of his spine. Shiro reaches out to settle his hand on Keith’s shoulder in a familiar, comforting gesture.

“Hey. Maybe you should rest? Put her on auto-pilot for a while. You deserve it,” Shiro offers. His voice is soft; not with sympathy, but with a muted sort of pride that draws Keith’s attention from the display. Shiro worries his bottom lip between his teeth, watching those dark eyes move to peer at him. The gentle curve of his lip... cheekbones dappled in starlight… Shiro can’t look away.

“I could go for a break,” Keith sighs. He smiles faintly and lets go of the drive sticks to let his hands fall into his lap. Weary, he collapses back against the paladin’s chair. “So...”

“So,” Shiro agrees. Together, they stare at the screen and watch the stars. The lighting in the cockpit is dim, and there’s no space wolf or mothers to interrupt them.

Shiro clears his throat and pulls at the unyielding collar of his paladin armor. He looks pointedly away from Keith.

“I thought we could... talk.”

“Talk,” Keith echoes.

“Yeah.”

“Well? Lay it on me.”

When they look back at each other, Keith just looks mildly amused. Shiro’s eyes are drawn to the angry red slash still burned into his cheek and, out of pure reflex,  he lifts his hand to stroke it. Keith doesn’t flinch away, and Shiro furiously tries not to imagine Keith’s leaning into his touch, or fluttering his eyelashes at him.

“I just wanted to say that... I’m sorry.”

Bad start. Keith’s eyebrows immediately pull together and he pulls his face away from Shiro’s hand. He glares up at him, and Shiro can’t help but hunch his shoulders and take a sudden interest in a small nick in the thigh in his paladin armor.

“What do you mean you’re sorry?” Keith asks. He sounds offended, which makes Shiro flinch. “What, you’re sorry about... my scar? The scar an evil _clone_ made, not you? Right before I, oh, I don’t know, cut your _arm_ off?”

“Keith,” Shiro says, and he tries to sound as placating as possible. He takes a deep breath and avoids meeting Keith’s eyes. “That’s only part of it. There are... _countless_ things I’m sorry for. And it all starts with leaving you alone on Earth.”

When he braves a look at Keith, the expression he sees is crumpled; somewhere between rage and grief. He tries to reach out to touch him again and Keith bats his hand away.

“There’s so much I want to say to you, Keith, and I don’t know where to begin—“

“Forget it,” Keith says hotly. He turns back towards the lion’s controls and takes them up firmly in his hands. His paladin gloves creak with the strength of his grip. Shiro finds himself wishing Keith had put those hands around his throat, instead.

“Keith...”

“You still need to recover,” Keith interrupts him. His voice is decisively gentler, but his eyes are still icy. “Go... and lay down, for a while. Try to get some sleep.”

Shiro is about to open his mouth to protest when the door at the back of the cockpit slides open with a _whoosh_. He looks up and sets his sights on six and a half feet of Galra Mom. Krolia looks at the back of Keith’s head, takes in his body language, and zeroes in on Shiro. Just the look on her face alone has Shiro scrambling to stand up from the armrest.

“Is everything alright in here?” she asks, tone even.

“Peachy,” Keith bites. Krolia’s eyes shift and her lips form a straight line at Shiro, watching him expectantly. Ears burning, Shiro manages a diplomatic smile and lifts his hand in a sheepish wave.

“I was... just going to go lie down,” he says, but his voice cracks like he's a teenage schoolboy. He side-shuffles out of the cockpit and squeezes past Krolia, who doesn’t move a muscle. She stares at him with the intensity of a thousand suns.

When the door closes in his face, Shiro slumps and contemplates launching himself out of the airlock.

“That went well,” he says to no one except for Keith’s space wolf, who appears with a snap (and the faint smell of sulfur) beside him. Absently, Shiro reaches out to touch the top of his head and looks down at him with a sardonic expression, “Don’t suppose you could teleport me back into the Black Lion’s consciousness, do you?”

He doesn’t.

-*-

They don’t really communicate, except for menial smalltalk, until five days later.

They’re alone in the cockpit again and Keith is sitting in his chair like no man (or human) really should, curled up with his back against the armrest and his foot hitched up on the other. He’s got his legs crossed, one foot high in the air and bobbing to a song no one else can hear. Shiro watches him from his perch on top of one of the crates behind the pilot’s chair, endeared. He’s always liked the way Keith can relax around him, even if they’re not talking right now.

Shiro looks down at his hovering tray and picks up a small cup. It’s full of a thick, sweet kind of liquid; like the juice from a can of peaches. He sips at it and tries to imagine it’s something a little more palatable, and something that doesn't have the consistency of _semen_. Shiro wishes he could kick his inner teenage self.

“So. I wanna talk.”

Keith’s voice is loud, abrupt, and enough to make Shiro choke. He coughs like he’s in his seventies, thumping his chest. Tears spring up in the corner of his eyes. When he recovers somewhat, Keith is peeking at him with concern from over the back of the pilot's chair.

“...You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Shiro wheezes. “Wrong pipe. Just— _gk_ —hold on—“

“Actually, this is perfect. Now I can talk to you without you saying something dumb,” Keith says. He starts to move in his chair, and Shiro has no damn clue how he does it so gracefully. He unfolds from his impersonation of a pretzel and sits on the armrest of the paladin’s chair, his arms crossed over his chest. Shiro would admire the view of him without all his armor on, only wearing the undersuit, but he’s still sort of choking on syrupy fruit jizz.

“Hhh—“ Shiro croaks, and starts another round of coughing.

“...Are you actually choking right now?”

Shiro manages to shake his head no and Keith relaxes. He glances at his own food tray and picks at what looks like sausage, but Shiro suspects it’s the entrails of the giant insectoid creatures they found on the last planet.

(Nobody had asked Hunk. No one wants to know.)

“Look,” Keith says, and he doesn’t look up from his tray. “You’re apologizing, but I don’t know what for. There’s nothing—nothing at _all—_ that you need to be sorry for. None of this is—none of this has _ever_ been your fault.”

Shiro massages the column of his throat and gives a few more feeble coughs. Keith takes up an unhealthy obsession with pinching bits of ‘sausage’ between his fingers until they crumble into smaller pieces.

“The universe should be apologizing to _you_.”

Watching the tension in Keith’s jaw shift to his throat, where his adam’s apple bobs in a gulp, Shiro blinks at him.

“Listen, I’m not good at uh... talking to people, but hopefully I’m making sense. With everything that’s happened to you, I... I am the _last_ person who... deserves an apology,” Keith mutters. He flicks his gaze to Shiro, shoulders sinking. “I cut off your arm. I left you... I pushed everyone away before they—before you—“

Keith’s eyes fall again. Shiro, no longer choking, doesn’t say anything.

“This scar... is just a reminder to never give up on the person who has always been way more than a brother to me. The person I'm in love with,” Keith says. There’s a tone of finality in his voice that has Shiro’s heart stuttering in his chest. Or maybe it’s the 'L' word Keith says so casually, like it’s nothing.

No. It’s more than nothing.

When Shiro meets Keith’s steady gaze, he finds nothing but confidence. Like his confession had never been anything more than the simple truth.

“I love you,” Keith says with steel conviction. He stands from the paladin’s chair and knocks the hovertray aside. Maimed entrails fall on the floor and Shiro can almost hear Black give a displeased rumble. He stares as Keith marches closer, hands balled at his sides. He says it again, “I love you.”

“I... mean... I mean, I love you, too,” Shiro stammers, dumbfounded. What more can he say? Nothing comes to mind. His jaw hangs, mouth agape. The words come easily, like they’ve been there the whole time, waiting to be spoken into existence. For a long moment, they just stare at each other, hover tray full of edible garbage floating between them. Keith lifts his hand and bumps the tray aside. He reaches out, fingers inching closer to Shiro’s face...

And flicks his jaw shut. Shiro’s teeth come together with a _click_. Keith’s hand trembles against Shiro’s chin.

“You’re going to let in the flies,” Keith whispers, teasing, but the quiver in his voice makes it sound more like he’s saying _I adore you._

“...Sorry. Evil clone took over for a minute. I wasn’t listening.”

The sarcastic comment slips out before Shiro can stop it. Keith’s face goes blank for a split second, eyes bugging out of his head. _His_ jaw drops. Shiro snorts and bursts into fits of near-hysterical laughter. Keith relaxes and wearily joins in, slapping his hand over his own face and dragging it down as he giggles, helpless.

“You're so lame."

"I try."

"...Shiro.”

Shiro recovers from his laughter just in time to realize Keith is crowding into him, one hand on his shoulder and one of his knees coming up between Shiro’s thighs to brace himself on the box he’s sitting on. Shiro reels back, thumping his head against the wall behind him. He gasps and looks up in time for Keith to crash their lips together.

Clumsy. Desperate. Eager. Keith tastes like sausage, or bug entrails. Shiro can’t tell the difference anymore. He doesn’t care.

He melts, disastrously gay for this moment. Keith is far too rough and fiery. He’s trying to show off but he _really_ sucks at kissing and it’s clear this is the first time he’s ever done it. Shiro drinks it all in like he’s been dragging his own carcass through the desert for seven years. With a faint smile, his eyelashes flutter and his eyes start to roll back into his head. He wants to treasure this moment, engrave it into his memory...

The cockpit door _whoosh_ es and Shiro nearly strains his eyeball when his eyes fly open. Keith is still kissing him even as Shiro looks to the side to see Krolia. She stands there in the threshold, staring. Her expression is neutral but there’s a descending cloud of darkness around her. The coward in Shiro’s chest shrieks in mortal terror and he shoves Keith away, holding him at arm’s length.

Keith looks... nonplussed, glancing to Krolia with an expression so much like her own that Shiro would bust a lung laughing, if not for fear of losing his genitals.

“Hey,” says Keith.

“Hey,” says Krolia.

“I... am... Shiro,” Shiro says with his last two firing brain cells. Krolia’s expression doesn’t change. Keith pushes himself up, straightening and facing his mother.

“Did you finish that simulation?” he asks. Shiro is still pressed against the wall like he’s being pinned there, chest rapidly rising and falling. He can’t look away from Krolia. If he looks away, she’ll swoop in and rip his throat out.

“Yes,” Krolia says, and finally glances away from Shiro to look at Keith instead. Her gaze softens considerably and Shiro mourns the fact that now Keith’s mother—‘ _thank you for raising him to be the man he is today’_ —probably hates his guts.

“Great. Let’s round everyone up and try it out,” Keith says, clapping his hands together. He returns to the pilot’s chair like nothing just happened. Shiro manages to sneak a glance at Krolia.

Her stare could melt steel beams.

-*-

“Mm...”

“Hn—“

Keith catches onto the basics of kissing real quick, masters it, and proceeds to steal Shiro’s breath away every time he does it. Shiro quickly learns to love having a lapful of Keith. He’s sprawled in the pilot’s chair with his legs spread and Keith straddling his lap as he practically sucks Shiro’s tongue out of his head. It’s nice. Really nice. Shiro tips his head to the side and groans into the frantic kiss.

They’d found out about a week ago that—with a little finagling with Black’s controls—the pilot’s seat can, in fact, recline. Overhead, stars and comets twinkle past them as they drift through space, Shiro pressed into the seat and Keith hanging over him with his hands planted into the cushions on either side of Shiro’s head.

“Mm. Mnn, isn’t your mom going to come back soon?” Shiro finds himself asking. He can barely tear his lips from Keith’s, and he fails to suppress a shiver at the sight of their saliva hanging between their lips in thick strings. Keith shifts and brings a hand up to wipe the spit off his devilish grin. Shiro wants to kiss that look right off his face.

“So what?” Keith asks. “Who cares?”

“I care,” Shiro insists. Keith snickers and leans down to kiss and nip at his chin. Shiro struggles to continue, “I-I’m just... you know, I don’t think she likes me?”

“What? She thinks you’re great. Why do you think that?”

Keith isn’t even really paying attention, too busy licking at the shell of Shiro’s ear. Shiro grips Keith’s thigh as tight as he can and hangs on for dear life as Keith plays a very dangerous game. Something solid and warm drops into his lower abdomen and he feels himself give a helpless twitch underneath his paladin suit.

“I don’t think—she approv—ugh, approves... o-of… of this...”

“Mrrrr,” Keith purrs. The sound that comes out of Shiro is more of a warble than a groan. His teeth dig into his bottom lip, dragging harshly over chapped skin. His canine catches on a bit of dry skin and he tastes metal bloom over the tip of his tongue.

“Keith,” Shiro tries again, but it cuts off into a long, low groan as Keith sucks a mark into the junction of his neck and shoulder. “Fff—seriously, don’t put a hickey in a place I can’t cover.”

“I never knew you to be a stickler for the rules,” Keith teases. His lips are back on Shiro’s and the nibbling and sucking is just too much. Shiro’s eyes cross and he can’t resist. His arm falls limply to the side, and he lets Keith tongue the life out of him. It’s all so... juvenile. Like two teenagers skipping class to make out under the bleachers, or up against the chain link fence at the end of the football field.

Except Shiro is in his mid-twenties (he thinks), and Keith is... twenty-something. He thinks. At least twenty-one? Sure. Time shenanigans.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” Keith mumbles. He resurfaces again, hovering over Shiro and licking the spit-slick from his lips. Shiro stares, because he’s still a man who loves men and Keith’s swollen lips really do it for him.

“Your mouth,” Shiro answers with all of the sarcastic gay energy he can muster. Keith grins and sits back, settling his weight fully in Shiro’s lap.

“You wanna think about it some _more?_ ” he purrs. Shiro’s heart throbs as Keith lifts his arms in a languid, sensual stretch. The material of his paladin undersuit shifts deliciously over his tight pecs and Shiro lets out a helpless, needy little sound that has his ears turning pink. Keith lets out a laugh and shifts closer.

“Keith...” Shiro starts. He tries to sound stern, but it comes out more like a whine.

“Unzip me,” Keith breathes. Giving in and lifting his shaking hand, Shiro reaches behind Keith’s neck and brushes his hair aside so he can grab at the zipper. Slowly, steadily, he drags it down. His heart starts to race and his eyes blow as wide as dinner plates as Keith shrugs out of the padded shoulders and shimmies the material lower and lower down his shoulders. A pretty, pink nipple pops into view and Shiro moa—

_Whoosh._

Shiro’s blood turns to ice as Keith looks up sharply and brings his hands up so he can slip the shoulders of his undersuit back up. His nipple disappears and Shiro would mourn the loss if he wasn't thinking about how he'd much rather be at the business end of a guillotine right now.

“Hey,” says Keith.

“Hey,” says Krolia.

With an overwhelming sense of déjà vu, Shiro tries to sink lower in the paladin’s chair so Krolia won’t see him. It’s too late, of course, but he hopes that he’ll maybe sink through the chin of the lion and _maybe_ die in the endless void of space.

Approaching footsteps has Shiro looking anywhere but Keith, and keeping his hand _decidedly_ off of Keith’s thigh.

“Shiro,” Krolia says, her voice cool. Shiro stares at the display panel to his left as if it holds the secrets to the universe. Maybe it’ll also tell him how he’s going to be able to keep his own balls attached to his body in this situation.

“Hello,” Shiro wheezes.

“Comfortable?”

Shiro feels his soul melting out of his body. Or maybe he’s just pissing himself. He can’t tell. He doesn’t dare look at Krolia in the eye.

“I w...wasn’t...” Shiro begins weakly. _I wasn’t about to suckle on your son’s rockin’ tits. I wasn’t about to just let him suck my soul out of the tip of my dick._

** “Hm.” **

Shiro wonders how it’s possible for someone to make a noise that sounds like it is both bold and underlined.

-*-

“Why are you sulking so much? Do you really hate it that much in here?”

Shiro looks up from the tablet he’s got in his hand and towards the pilot’s chair, where Pidge has turned around almost completely to squint at him. He heaves a sigh.

“I don’t hate it, Pidge. I’m sorry,” he apologizes. Pidge’s lips curl into a Cheshire grin and she lifts a hand to giggle behind it.

“Ohhhh. Hold on. I think I know now.”

Shiro flushes and coughs into his hand.

“Your boyfriend’s _mom_ had to _separate_ you two,” Pidge teases. “Didn’t she? She caught you making out, _didn’t she?!_ That’s why you suddenly started spending the night in Green!”

Shiro doesn’t deny it and Pidge grabs onto that little fact like the evil little gremlin she is. She cackles, throwing her head back so hard that her helmet nearly flies off.

“Oh—oh my gosh— _Hunk_ —“

A commlink opens and Hunk’s face appears. Between tears and hysterical giggling, she gives Hunk all of the details and it sends him into roaring laughter as well. Shiro wonders if Green would let him hang out in her consciousness for a while, since Black is insistent in keeping him alive in this cruel world.

The only thing that stops him from slinking into Green’s cargo hold is the sudden, faint smell of sulfur. Shiro blinks and the space wolf appears in a burst of electric light. There’s a faintly glowing datapad in his mouth, covered and dripping with drool. With a curious tilt of his head, Shiro takes it and wipes the drool off on his thigh.

He reads the first few lines and a smile rises to his lips as he settles against the box behind him and pulls the space wolf’s head onto his lap.

_hey shiro. im so fucking bored. im gonna talk mom into letting you stay for a few extra hours tonight before you have to go back._

_did you like breakfast? i think hunk is lying about what it was but i dont even want to ask. my guess is some sort of liver._

_i miss you._

**Author's Note:**

> [You can follow me on twitter here, where you can find all of my Voltron fanfiction.](https://twitter.com/inkweaving)
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta readers, [Mari on twitter](https://twitter.com/lanceyylancee), and [Feth on tumblr!](https://feth.tumblr.com)


End file.
